


Abandon All Hope (Hades Drabbles)

by bladespark



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Childhood Friends, Crack Relationships, Eldritch Thanatos, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Nereids (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Nicknames, Parenthood, Platonic Cuddling, Revenge, Rope Bondage, Sex Pollen, Shibari, Siblings, Silly, Temporary Character Death, no beta we die like zagreus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29029479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladespark/pseuds/bladespark
Summary: A collection of very short Hades stories, mostly inspired by people on the Than/Zag discord. (And with occasional credit to the DW In A Flash group!)(These short bits haven't been beta-read, put on Patreon, or otherwise seen by mortal eyes before going up here, so feel free to point out typos and egregious grammatical errors!)It's gotten too long to list what's in the chapters in this description, but each chapter's notes should say.  These range from cuddly to X rated and from cute to grim, so there's probably something in here for everyone!
Relationships: Achilles & Patroclus & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Theseus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Theseus/Zagreus, Aphrodite/Artemis, Hypnos/Tisiphone, Megaera/Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 184
Collections: In a Flash





	1. Pink Hearts and Fury Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For our first chapter, some crackshipping! I wanted to do an Aphrodite's boon/sex pollen thing with two unlikely characters, and ver-ironica suggested this pair.
> 
> P.S. If you'd like to see me talk about writing, my works in progress, other creative endeavors, and my life in general, check out [my Dreamwidth blog](https://bladespark.dreamwidth.org/) or my [twitter](https://twitter.com/bladespark). I also now run a [multiship, adults-only, kink-friendly Hades server](https://discord.gg/zSUcd9s5rt). Feel free to join!

The bottle had once held ambrosia, the squared-off shape a familiar one to Hypnos. Now, however, it was full of swirling pink sparkles. “That’s beautiful!” gasped Hypnos, peering at the pink-shimmering thing in Tisiphone’s hands. They were alone in her quarters out in Tartarus, since she wasn’t allowed in the House. It was a spartan room, hardly more than a bed, a chest for clothes, and the little box of treasures from which the fury had produced the bottle. “You’ve found quite the treasure there! Where did you get it?”

“Mur-der,” grated Tisiphone, and she set the bottle down and picked up her sketchpad and pencil. It darted with practiced ease, drawing out a readily recognizable sketch of Zagreus, walking away from a little heart, and Tisiphone, bottle in hand, peeking out from behind a column somewhere in Tartarus.

“Oh! It’s a boon that Zagreus didn’t claim, huh? I won’t ask how you got it in the bottle!” Hypnos giggled. “It’s very pretty. Are you going to do anything with it?”

“Murrrr!” Tisiphone picked up the bottle, and pressed it into Hypnos’ hands.

“For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have! I mean really, this is such a lovely treasure, a lovely fury like you should keep it!” Tisiphone had so little, Hypnos couldn’t help but feel it was wrong to take something like this from her. Hypnos tried to put the bottle back in Tisiphone’s hands.

“Der!” Tisiphone pushed it back at Hypnos, and for a brief moment there was a sort of reverse tug-of-war as each tried to insist the other have it.

Then the inevitable happened and the bottle was fumbled, falling to the stone floor and shattering, releasing a cloud of pink.

It had originally been a boon, a sort of abstract potential favor from Aphrodite, but it had been steeping in the bottle for quite some time, and at this point had become something more like pure essence of Aphrodite’s nature.

After just a moment, though, the cloud cleared, vanished somewhere, as if it had never been.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Tisiphone! I didn’t mean to—” Hypnos’ apology was cut off as his eyes met the fury’s. How had he never noticed how stunning she was? He’d thought she was alright for ages, and they’d been friends for a while. And sure he’d had a few thoughts about more than friends, he was a young god with all the drive that entailed, even if his version of that drive was more languid than most.

But how had he never seen how striking her skull-like features were, how the glow in her eyes sparkled more than any mortal eyes possibly could? How had he never noticed how the pale green of her hair perfectly set off the paler tone of her skin, all of that accented by the lovely deep violet of her wing? How could he have missed the way her slender frame would fit so nicely against his own small body?

“M-murrrderrrr?” Her tone was softer than Hypnos had ever heard it before, almost purring. She stepped towards Hypnos, heedless of the glass shards scattered on the floor, and next thing he knew he was being embraced and kissed soundly.

He’d never thought to wonder, before, what a fury might taste like. She tasted of ash and sweetness, strange but intoxicating, and Hypnos wrapped his own slender arms tight around her and kissed back. He’d have been blissfully happy to stay that like forever, kissing with drowsy slowness, but Tisiphone apparently couldn’t be so sedate, she tightened her grip and pushed her tongue demandingly into Hypnos’ mouth. He let out a muffled squeak of surprise, but didn’t resist one bit. She was exciting, her energy an anodyne to his constant sleepiness, almost enough to truly wake him up.

Even that was obviously not enough for her, though, for her hands slid beneath his blanket cape and groped over his body, cupping his ass and pulling him hard against her, and oh! He was suddenly intensely aware of the fire of need smoldering between his legs. He moaned into the kiss, tightening his own grip on her, heedless of the spikes of her armor or of anything else.

Tisiphone broke off the kiss and shoved Hypnos, which made him yelp in surprise, but he fell over onto her bed, and immediately grasped what she was after. She climbed in with him, pulling up his long skirt, her strong, narrow, wonderful hands going straight to his hard cock beneath it.

“Oh! Oh wow! You are very into this. I… Ohhh…” Her insistent stroking overwhelmed his ability to speak. That didn’t matter, though, did it? He knew exactly what she wanted, after all, and she had only the one word to use.

She let go of his cock, which made him whimper. He _needed_ her touch! He needed it right— “Oh!” Hypnos’ eyes flew open at the hot, wet contact, and saw she’d pulled off her leggings and straddled him, and then she was sinking down, taking his cock into her. He'd have thought she’d be cold, given how much like a skeleton she looked, but she wasn’t, she was burning, hellfire-hot, and it felt wonderful.

“Murrrrrrrr,” she moaned, grinding down against him. Hypnos let out a high-pitched moan of his own, lifting his hips to her, _needing_ more of her. Had he ever felt this desperately on fire with passion before? He found his hands clutching at Tisiphone, his hips jerking up into her as she rode him roughly, pushing down in a fast, demanding rhythm. Her hands gripped his wrists as if to hold his in place, her head tipped back, her hair wild all around her, strands of it escaping its ponytail. It was urgent and intense and like nothing else Hypnos had ever felt.

With a wordless cry he hadn’t known Tisiphone could manage she clenched suddenly on him hard, the building intensity cresting in her, and in Hypnos too, his cry echoing hers a moment later as he came.

The slide down from orgasm was a slide back into sanity, and Hypnos found his mind clearing, despite the lingering warmth of pleasure that filled his body. “Oh. Oh, that was Aphrodite’s boon. Uhm…” He blinked up at Tisiphone, no longer needing her, and no longer thinking she was utter perfection.

But…

Her face still did have an odd elegance to it. Her hair still did compliment her skin. Her wing still was a lovely indigo. And her expression was puzzled as she looked down at him.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to… I mean, I did, sort of, but if you didn’t, or if… Oh dear. I’m sorry?”

Tisiphone blinked at him a few times, her blinks always odd, since the lids seemed to be closing over empty space. Her narrow lips curved up and she bent over, giving Hypnos a quick, shy little peck. “Murrr.”

Hypnos breathed a sigh of relief. “You are okay! I’m so glad. That was, er, very nice, really. Just, uhm, you know, I might have taken a little more time about things?” He giggled.

Tisiphone sprawled over him, nuzzling into his hair, relaxing completely. “Mrrrrrrr.”

It _was_ a purr this time, soft and contented and sweet, and Hypnos smiled and folded his blanket cape over them both, and then did what he did best and drifted off to sleep with Tisiphone in his arms.


	2. Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanatos may look calm on the outside, but inside his mind is always racing. Sometimes, when he can't handle the frantic pace of his thoughts any more, Megaera helps him find stillness and quiet.
> 
> Or, old friends do non-sexual shibari.

“Thank you for doing this for me, Meg.” Thanatos was pulling his gauntlet off as he spoke, standing in his private chambers with Megaera, who watched him with patient interest as he started undressing.

“Any time, Than.” She smiled, opening the bag she’d set on the bed and pulling out a series of rope bundles from it. She had them arranged to her satisfaction long before Thanatos finished stripping down to only his undershorts, but she didn’t seem to mind the wait. Her look was appreciative, but short of a leer. She and Thanatos were well used to each other by now. They’d been lovers now and then, over the years, and of course these days they often enjoyed putting Prince Zagreus between them. But this moment was something else, something that only Megaera had ever been able to do for Thanatos.

He’d considered asking Zagreus to learn more than once, but the prince’s active nature would make it hard for him, and Megaera never seemed to mind, the fury far more patient than many who knew her only casually would have believed.

“You ready?” Megaera picked up the first length of rope, unwrapping it from its tidy bundle.

“Yes.” Thanatos nodded, standing still in the center of the room. His body was still, but his mind wasn’t, his eyes flicking around, his thoughts jumping with them. There were so many things to think about. The war on the surface, now winding down. The state of his relationship with Zagreus. What to do about his brother Hypnos. The continuing admiration of Ares, which always felt terribly awkward.

His thoughts always sped, it was nigh-impossible for him to slow them. He had long ago learned to hold still, to move slowly, to speak thoughtfully, but none of that could still the inner mill-race of his mind.

Megaera found the midpoint of the first rope and looped it over Thanatos’ head, so it rested across the back of his neck. She began to carefully wrap the ends in a pattern, crossing over his chest, creating a harness that at first only rested on his skin, binding nothing. Still, the pattern was somehow hypnotic, Meg’s deliberate, professional motions soothing. Thanatos let his vision come unfocused. His thoughts were still running, but each touch of the rope slowed them a little more, brought him a little more into his body, into simply being.

The basic harness snugged around his torso, Megaera picked up a second length of rope and began by pulling Thanatos’ hands behind his back. He let out a soft sigh as the first real restraint began to wrap around him. He’d needed this so very badly.

“How’s that feel? Not too tight?”

“It’s good.”

Megaera nodded, Thanatos just glimpsing it through nearly-closed eyes. She continued the elaborate patterns, rope sliding over skin as she pulled the ends through here or there to make the tie work. Soon the pressure of it was pulling Thanatos’ shoulders back. Megaera’s hand tested the rope, tested the strain there. “Still good?”

“Mmhmm.” Words were growing harder for him, and thoughts were slowing until they were barely there. Thanatos let his eyes close entirely as Megaera finished the arm tie, his hands secured together, forearms tied with elbows pulled closer in than quite natural, biceps fastened to the harness around his torso.

“Okay, up on the bed now.”

Thanatos opened his eyes again, and let Megaera guide him to the bed and help him lie down in it.

The next length of rope Megaera looped around Thanatos’ waist again, and began creating a harness below it. He spread his legs to let her run the rope between them, but her touch didn’t linger there, and he felt no sense of arousal from it. This wasn’t about that. It was only about the calm he so desperately needed. He was well into it by now, floating, his mind emptying of everything except the feel of the rope on his skin, the way it restrained and held him, the slow ritual of how Megaera put it on him.

She bound his legs together at the knees, and then finally at the ankles as well, rendering him utterly helpless.

The final touch, a long sash of black silk, pulled from the bag that had held the rope, went over Thanatos’ eyes, blindfolding him. He let out a long, soft sigh, utterly relaxed, lost in a meditative state where he could simply exist in himself and think nothing, feel nothing but what his body felt, and hardly that, only the pressure of the rope, no sight, no motion, hardly any sound in the quiet of his room.

“There. Still comfortable?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good boy,” said Megaera, a smile in her voice, but not a mocking one. She sat beside Thanatos and stroked his hair, helping him slip the last tiny bit into the calm he so badly needed.

Later she would untie him, the act almost as peaceful as being tied, though there was always regret in rejoining the world as she did. Later he would thank her in countless little ways, dozens of small favors. Later there would be his duty, and later there would be Zagreus and his love.

But now there was only this, the gift of peace from a friend, his mind stilled completely at last.


	3. Nickname

“You do realize this is a public place, don’t you?” said Thanatos, trying to sound scolding but not at all succeeding. He smiled down at Zagreus, who’d put his head in Thanatos’ lap as they sat in the lounge.

“What? All I’m doing is lying here, Thanny.”

Thanatos raised both eyebrows and gave Zagreus a silent _look_.

“What?!” Zagreus gave a look back, one of exaggerated innocence.

Thanatos sighed a sigh of fond resignation and ruffled Zagreus’ already ridiculously messy hair. “Only you would survive calling me that, Zag.”

“I could come up with another one if you don’t like that. Than-a-toes. No, even better, Than-a-toast!”

Thanatos shook his head, not knowing if he should laugh or shove Zagreus off of his lap. “If you call me those, I can’t guarantee that even you would survive it.”

“You can call me Zaggy if you like! Or… Uhm… Damn, I can’t think of a bad Zagreus pun.”

“Hah.” Thanatos snorted. “You’d love it if I called you Zaggy.”

“…Maybe. You don’t like Thanny?”

Thanatos felt a flush color his cheeks, and he looked away. “Well…” He did like it, from Zagreus at least. It was extremely silly, but there was a certain intimacy to having a ridiculous nickname like that.

Zagreus just smiled up from his lap in response.

“Hello, boys.” Megaera dropped into a seat opposite Thanatos, bottle of nectar in hand.

“Hello, Meg.” Thanatos gave her a small smile.

“Hey.” Zagreus lifted a hand to be visible above the table, but didn’t relinquish Thanatos’ lap.

The trio chatted and drank for a while, though Zagreus didn’t sit up to have any, claiming that he still needed to keep his head clear for his next run. Thanatos was fairly certain he just wanted an excuse to stay in his lap.

Truth be told, he didn’t mind.

Eventually, though, the nectar had all been drunk, and the conversation wound down. Zagreus finally pried himself up out of Thanatos’ lap. “Well, I should be going. Time for another run, you know?”

“Guess that means I should be off as well.” Meg grinned at Zagreus and got to her feet. She looked over at Thanatos and added, “See you around, _Thanny_.”

Zagreus let loose a snort of startled laughter.

“Meg.” Thanatos gave her a look that was even more scorching than the one he’d given Zagreus earlier. “You are treading on dangerous ground there.”

Megaera only laughed and left the lounge.

Thanatos shook his head, half-smiling at the fury’s bold teasing. “I have half a mind to make her regret that.”

Zagreus laughed. “Well, I _am_ about to go fight her. And you _did_ say that I was the only one who could survive calling you that…” He pulled Mort out of his pocket and grinned at Thanatos, who found himself smiling more broadly than he usually would.

“What an excellent suggestion…Zaggy.”

Zagreus laughed again. “Well, I’d better get going, then. See you soon!”

He dashed out of the room, leaving a faint scent of hot stone behind him, and leaving Thanatos to lean back in his chair and wait.

He didn’t have to wait long at all before feeling the familiar summons. Schooling his face to seriousness he rose, summoned his scythe from the ether, and then in an instant was no longer here, but there, appearing in the fury’s shrine in a flash of light.

“Really, Zagreus,” said Megaera, her whip out and at the ready. “Are you getting out of practice, that you need his help to defeat me?”

“Nah, I just thought I’d give Than a chance to get one back on you.” Zagreus grinned, then nodded at Thanatos. “All yours!”

“Thank you, Zagreus. How thoughtful of you.” Thanatos drew back his scythe, and laughed at the sight of Megaera’s startled expression as he launched himself forward.

It was an absolute massacre. Megaera was good, but Thanatos was Death incarnate, and she didn’t stand a chance.

“You have—urgh!—no sense of humor,” she said, and then she was gone.

Zagreus laughed. “I think you have a great sense of humor, that was hilarious!”

Thanatos smiled ever so slightly. “I suppose it was. Well, see you back at the House later?”

“Sure! Tell Meg hi for me, Thanny!” Zagreus grinned and waved, then jogged out of the room, as his way up to Asphodel.

Thanatos took himself back to the House of Hades, appearing in the hall just in time to see Megaera shake the last of the Styx’s bloody waters from her. “Ugh.” She started at Thanatos. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing at all, Meggy.”

“Oh gods, no.”

Thanatos chuckled. “Megaera then? Truce?”

“Yes, Thanatos, truce. You can kill me all you like, but do _not_ call me that.”

“The real question, though, is can Zagreus call you that?”

“Ugh. I have no idea how he does it, but… Maybe. Nobody else, though.”

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” said Thanatos, smiling. “There’s nobody else like him.”


	4. Beneath a Lover's Moon

The grand feast in Persephone’s honor did not precisely entertain Artemis.

She liked Zagreus well enough. He was fun, and interesting, and his dedication to mastery of combat was at least close enough to her dedication to the hunt to feel familiar. Not to mention his love of Cerberus and her devotion to her hunting hounds.

But though he didn’t put himself forward, all the Olympians wanted to speak with Zagreus, so his time was much in demand. Artemis wasn’t the sort to scrabble for attention, so she merely sat back, and sampled the underworld’s cuisine, and appreciated the plentiful wine, nectar, and ambrosia in moderation.

“My, our little godling’s quite the life of the party, isn’t he?”

That was Aphrodite, who’d been seated beside Artemis for whatever reason.

“He is, yes. I suppose it’s fitting enough. We’re celebrating Persephone, but I gather his efforts had something to do with this reunion.”

“It seems so, yes. Although I’m sad I can’t get him alone. He is quite a handsome little thing, isn’t he?”

Artemis blinked at Zagreus, then looked over at Aphrodite. “Oh. I suppose, if you’re into that.”

Aphrodite’s laugh was like a cascade of sweet water, wonderful and alluring, even to Artemis, who had no interest in the goddess of love’s erotic realm.

Eroticism wasn’t all there was to attraction, after all.

“What, I know you’d love to get Zagreus all to yourself!” laughed Aphrodite.

“Oh, I suppose.” She couldn’t help her smile. “He’s good with a bow, and can you imagine Cerberus as a hunting hound? It would be quite the romp, if he could join me! But I don’t think it likely. I’ve heard there’s some binding of the fates, that he must stay in the realm below.”

“So I’ve heard, yes,” sighed Aphrodite, looking at Zagreus, who was laughing with the god of death, Thanatos.

“Ah well. I can always hunt alone, or with my companions of Lesbos,” said Artemis, with a little sigh of her own.

“I could hunt with you, cousin,” ventured Aphrodite, her smile suddenly warmer than seemed necessary. 

Artemis gave her a disbelieving look. “You? What do you know of hunting?”

“Nothing! But we all must begin learning somewhere, must we not? After all, you know nothing of love.”

“I want nothing of your sort of love,” groused Artemis, but it wasn’t angry. The idea of Aphrodite joining her in the hunt was oddly alluring. They were distant cousins, but they hardly ever spoke. Their realms didn’t overlap, save in that Aphrodite oversaw female love as well as well as male, and Artemis knew perfectly well that her companions of the hunt, the women of Lesbos, sometimes indulged in such things.

“Oh little Artemis. Perhaps that’s true. But still, I am curious about your hunt. Would you let me join, next time you venture out?”

“I suppose so,” said Artemis, dubiously.

Aphrodite clapped her hands. “Delightful! Now here,” she filled Artemis’ goblet with ambrosia. “Let us drink to Zagreus, to Persephone, and to my venturing out on the hunt!”

Artemis couldn’t help a chuckle at Aphrodite’s ridiculous enthusiasm. “Very well. Let us drink,” and she lifted her glass, knowing it would all come to nothing, but pleased enough in the moment.

****

“Helooooo!”

Artemis looked up at the flowery greeting, and blinked in surprise. Aphrodite was there, clad in only her hair as usual, and carrying nothing.

“Am I in time? Are you setting out to hunt now?”

“Ah… We will in a moment,” said Artemis, “but you don’t have a bow or even a spear. We’re hunting deer today. How will you bring one down?”

“I will charm them!” said Aphrodite, her smile bright and seductive.

Artemis shrugged the seduction off easily, and tried not to laugh too much. “I see. I suppose there’s no harm in trying it.” She took up her own bow, and nodded to the Lesbians at her side, including her mistress of hounds. “Let’s be off, then!”

****

Aphrodite could not charm deer. She had a certain effect on a few of the women of Lesbos, but didn’t pursue that. The deer, though, ignored her efforts entirely.

That was evident fairly early on in the proceedings. Yet to Artemis’ surprise she gamely continued, running alongside, her glorious pink hair getting matted and tangled, her naked body collecting scrapes and scratches. Eventually the hunt was done, Artemis’ own arrow bringing down the prey, the huntresses crudely butchering it on the spot before carrying it back. That too, Aphrodite bore with surprising grace, not helping, but not shrinking from the sight of blood and organs.

Artemis hadn’t expected to be impressed with respect for her far-removed cousin, but she was. Many a would-be huntress had blanched, fled, or emptied her stomach at that point. The goddess of love, though, persevered, and accompanied the hunting party back to their camp, where the deer was further butchered and the meat roasted.

She took part in the feast, too, heedless of the juices that flowed down her chin and over her flawless body. By the time all was said and done she was a mess, frankly, but somehow Artemis found herself pleased by this.

As the moon sank and the night waxed on, Artemis approached her fellow goddess. “Have you enjoyed the feast?”

"It has been delicious.” Aphrodite smiled. “Though I am saddened that I failed to help in the hunt.”

“Oh, well, perhaps if you tried during the rut.” Aphrodite grinned. “Though one can get in a lot of trouble, pursing bucks during rut!”

“Hah! Don’t I know it! Though I don’t speak of deer.” She laughed freely, and Artemis laughed with her.

“Yes, mortal men and even gods are like that, at times,” she said. “I’ve no interest, though.”

Aphrodite gave Artemis a considering look. “Are you immune to the lure of a man in rut because you prefer women, or for some other reason?”

Artemis shrugged. “Women are my friends. I’ve never had a lover and don’t truly want one.”

Aphrodite sighed, then, a long release of breath. “I sometimes think my life would be easier if I did not either, cousin. Yet it is what it is, and I am what I am.”

“And I am what I am also.” Artemis shrugged carelessly. She had nothing else to say to that. “But come. The feast is ended, and the moon sets soon. We should rest.”

Aphrodite looked down at herself. “Ugh. In a bit. Have you a brush? My hair is in a state.”

“I do, yes,” said Artemis, and made a beckoning gesture. They left the fire, where the women of Lesbos were packing away the young buck’s meat, and went Artemis’ current home, a hollowed-out tree whose trunk had just space enough for a little nest of tanned furs. Artemis reached within and found a brush. “Here.”

She didn’t hand it over, though, but gestured for Aphrodite to enter. The goddess of love curled herself on the mound of soft furs with a luxurious sigh. “Oh, this is lovely, cousin.”

“I’m glad you like it. But sit up, here.”

Aphrodite nodded, straightening, turning her back to Artemis, who took the brush and began gently working at the end of the long, tangled pink tresses.

It took until the moon was long vanished and the night was pitch black, only the nearby fire shedding any light, and that turning to coals, waning such that only the eyes of a huntress goddess might see anything. But at last Artemis finished the final stroke, drawing the brush through Aphrodite’s hair from crown to waist.

Aphrodite had leaned into every stroke, and now she sighed, nearly purring in hedonistic bliss. “Ah, cousin. You make me regret that you’re not inclined to passion.”

Artemis shrugged. “I am what I am.”

“Yes. And you are lovely. Thank you for this night.” Aphrodite stretched, her glorious body on full display. Artemis noted it, knew that most men and many women would have fought to see it, and smiled a small smile. It didn’t stir her, as such, but she was glad to see her distant kin so comfortable and pleased.

Aphrodite then curled up amid the heap of furs. “I am tired. Rest with me, cousin?”

Artemis hesitated, then with a shrug and a smile gave in. “Of course, cousin.” She curled with her fellow goddess on the soft bedding, as the stars turned unseen above, and slept deep and warm in Aphrodite’s loving arms.


	5. Clutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus is a total slob. Thanatos is neat and orderly. Zagreus' room drives Thanatos absolutely around the bend.
> 
> A quick drabble for today's DW flash fiction challenge

“It’s fine,” said Zagreus, laughing.

Thanatos snorted, looking at the disaster area before him. It was _not_ fine.

“If I cleaned up I don’t even know where I’d put it all!”

“It looks like a wretch has rampaged through here,” said Thanatos, trying to scowl, but smiling instead.

“You sound like my father.” Zagreus stuck his tongue out at Thanatos.

“I am wounded beyond measure!” said Thanatos, giving in to the urge to laugh. “The worst possible insult you could deliver.”

Zagreus just laughed too.

“Seriously, though, surely Dusa could put all this to order?” Thanatos frowned around the jumbled chaos.

“No,” said Zagreus flatly. “She’s not allowed in here. She _moves things._ ”

“Er…”

“And then I can’t _find them!_ ”

Thanatos blinked at Zagreus’ impassioned cry. “I…see.” He surveyed the room again. The idea that Zagreus truly knew where everything was seemed nonsensical. It was a chaotic jumble. Surely there was no way that could be true.

His eyes sorted through the mess, alit on a tiny object, just barely protruding from a heap of things in one corner. “So if you know where everything is, what about that book of poetry that Achilles gave you?”

“Oh, it’s right here!” And Zagreus, to Thanatos’ astonishment, went directly to it, pulling it out from underneath the pile.

“Huh. And I suppose you know where that cat-skull zoster is, too?” he asked, noticing a small glimpse of it, again very much hidden beneath other things.

“Sure. Though I like this one better,” said Zagreus, as he pulled the belt out, tapping the triple-skull belt he was wearing with a laugh.

“You really do know where everything is.” Thanatos shook his head.

“Well yeah.” Zagreus smiled brightly.

Thanatos surveyed the chaos again. “I have no idea how you stand it, Zagreus.”

Zagreus laughed. “Yes, I know. You keep things clean and neat and tidy and bare. I don’t care. It’s my room, it’s my stuff, so you’d better leave it alone.”

Thanatos quirked the corner of his mouth upward in a tiny smile. “Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll come into your room and move everything around until it looks like this,” said Zagreus, grinning.

Thanatos laughed. “All right, Zag. You win. I won’t tidy any of this. But I will insist on considering you an utter barbarian.”

“Fair enough! It might be true.” Zagreus’ mismatched eyes twinkled as he added, “But you know what else barbarians are known for, right Than?” Zagreus wiggled his eyebrows, and Thanatos tried to not fall over laughing at the absurdity of it.

“No, I’ve no idea what you could possibly be getting at.”

“They’re known for carrying off their captives to debauch,” said Zagreus, and he pounced on Thanatos suddenly scooping him up and then nearly tossing him into the bed.

Thanatos yelped in surprise, he sometimes forgot how strong Zagreus was, despite being the shorter of them.

“So, I think some debauchery is definitely in order.” Zagreus was grinning, but there was a feral gleam in his gaze as he put a knee on the bed and looked down at Thanatos. “What say you, my captive?”

Thanatos felt himself blushing bright, and swallowed hard. “Ah… I suppose I am as helpless before your debauchery as I am before your barbaric living quarters,” he said, managing a smile.

“Hah! Indeed so,” said Zagreus, moving over Thanatos, and then for a long time there were very few words at all.


	6. Bitchslap the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the same setting as my Blood and Butterflies series, shortly after Butterfly's Flight.
> 
> Zagreus finds out exactly what Apollo did during the conclusion of the Trojan war, and he is _not_ happy about it.

It was Zagreus’ third trip to Olympus, and he was quite enjoying himself.

On his first visit he’d been introduced to an absolutely bewildering number of gods, though he knew it probably wasn’t even a quarter of the pantheon. There were only twelve Olympians proper, but there were at least a couple hundred non-Cthonic deities. It would take a long time to meet them all, if that was his goal. It wasn’t; he hadn’t even met all the Cthonic deities after all, and they were very much outnumbered by their surface-dwelling cousins.

On his second trip he’d tried to remember, match names and faces and domains, but fortunately he was a little less of a novelty that time, and had gotten some time to actually enjoy himself with some of those who’d been so helpful with their boons on his many trips up out of Hell. Olympus was every bit the pit of snakes his mother had described, full of gossip and back-biting and age-old feuds, though he’d known that already, of course. He wasn’t involved in any of those, though, so he’d been able to drink with Dionysus, hunt with Artemis, even fish with Poseidon, and not worry about who had offended who when and in retaliation for what.

Between his second and third trip, however, he’d learned something.

He’d heard the short version of the story of Troy from Achilles’ own lips, explaining why he was in the House, why Patroclus was alone in Elysium, all that. The long version, though, had been utterly unknown to him until he’d happened to pick up a book about it.

Zagreus had been pleased to learn more about his mentor and his past, but as he read that pleasure had turned to pain, and then to outrage. Not at Achilles, though, oh no. He had flinched, from time to time, at the horrible things Achilles had done during the war, but none of them had been news, exactly. Achilles himself had freely admitted to his own past sins after all, if in not much detail, and Zagreus knew how deeply he regretted every one of those actions.

What Achilles hadn't mentioned though, not even a hint or a word, was the degree to which the war had been orchestrated not by men, but by gods.

In the tangle of gods involved, most Zagreus could set aside, with a roll of his eyes for their meddling and a faint ache for the needless pain they’d caused, but one… One could not be so easily dismissed.

So now, as Zagreus left faint scorch marks along the golden footpaths of Olympus, on his way to another Dionysian revel, he had a single small-yet-significant feud of his own. Although he was quite sure the other party involved had no idea about it.

Still, it probably wouldn’t come up, so Zagreus was whistling cheerfully as he reached the vast, vine-wreathed party mansion of Dionysus. The party seemed to be already underway, though Zagreus got the impression that there was always at least a bit of revelry on the premises. Gods, maenads, and nymphs of all sorts were drinking, laughing and even dancing in the garden, on the portico, and within the house itself, whose doors and windows were all flung wide open.

Zagreus got as far as the portico before Dionysus found him, greeting him with a cheery, “Welcome, Zag!” and pressing a cup of wine into his hand. Zagreus took a willing swig and smiled. He liked Dionysus quite a lot.

He hadn’t even gotten inside the house, though, before he spotted a particular god, and his cheery mood was overlaid with a mixture of anger and determination.

They’d been introduced on that first visit, of course. No gathering of significant Olympians would be complete without the golden god of the sun, Apollo. At the time Zagreus hadn’t gotten any particular impression of him. He’d seemed arrogant, but most gods were, and beyond that he hadn’t much stood out.

Now, though, his golden hair and showy adornments drew Zagreus’ eye instantly. He left Dionysus’ side and strode up to Apollo, tapping him on the shoulder. “Apollo?”

The god turned away from his conversation, cocking his head to the side curiously. “Yes?”

Zagreus, without a hint of hesitation, punched Apollo as hard as he could, directly on the jaw. It was, necessarily, an uppercut, since Apollo was taller than he, as most gods were, and it very nearly lifted him off of his feet entirely. It certainly sent him over onto the floor in a heap.

“That’s for Patroclus,” said Zagreus, looking down at Apollo without a hint of fear or regret in his mismatched eyes.

Apollo snarled and came up swinging, but Zagreus hadn’t spent the last small eternity fighting for nothing, and he immediately knocked Apollo right back down with another punch, delivered before the golden god could even get fully to his feet.

“And that one is for Achilles,” said Zagreus, his voice hard and level. “Now,” he added, putting his hand on the hilt of Stygius at his belt, “I’ll call us even if you like, but if you want to make something of it, be aware that I _have_ killed gods before.”

Apollo sat on Dionysus’ marble floor and looked up at Zagreus with an expression of pure shock. “You… You little upstart hellspawn,” he started, but suddenly Dionysus was standing between him and Zagreus.

“Come on, dudes. This is my party, not Ares’! Fighting is just not cool. In fact I pretty strictly forbid it, as strictly as I do anything.”

“My apologies, Dio,” said Zagreus, inclining his head to his host. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all good, Zag.” Dionysus beamed at Zagreus and Apollo in equal measure, though Zagreus was pretty sure there was a threat hiding somewhere under his smile. Dionysus was not a god to be trifled with, despite his cheerful exterior.

Apollo pulled himself to his feet and rubbed his jaw. There was a trace of golden ichor dribbling from the corner of his mouth, which made Zagreus smile. “It is _not_ all good,” he spat, glaring at Zagreus.

“Hey, bro, if you and Zag want to go settle things outside, you can. But not in here, not on my turf, got it? We cool?”

Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “Will you come satisfy honor, then? Or are you a hell-born coward?”

Zagreus chuckled. “I don’t think cowardice comes into it. But I’m certainly hell-born. So nah, I’m good.”

If Apollo could have glared a hole in Zagreus, he no doubt would have, but then he looked at Dionysus and some of the fire in his gaze ebbed. “Very well. I will no doubt see you again.” He nodded curtly at Dionysus, and then turned and stalked off, through the impromptu circle of curious observers that had gathered.

“Zag, man, that was a bit uncalled for, don’t you think?” said Dionysus.

“No, I think it was exactly what was called for,” said Zagreus, feeling immensely satisfied. “But I won’t cause any more trouble if he doesn’t, don’t worry.”

Dionysus smiled at that. “Ah, no biggie, coz. I’m used to having half my guests needing to stay away from the other half. This _is_ Olympus after all.” He winked. “So you come along with me, and we can find you a nice party spot away from your new nemesis, hmm?”

“Sounds good,” said Zagreus.

“Although just between you and me, coz, Apollo can be trouble,” added Dionysus, looking unusually serious as he led Zagreus across the house.

“Would you say my father can be trouble, Dio?” asked Zagreus, suddenly grinning.

“Well sure. He’s about as much trouble as they make, except maybe his brothers.”

Zagreus’ grin broadened. “Exactly. Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. Now let’s go have some fun!”

And as he followed Dionysus, the sting in Zagreus’ knuckles felt a little bit like justice. He probably wouldn’t tell Patroclus or Achilles what he’d done, and in truth it didn’t even remotely even the score, but he was about as satisfied as he’d ever been about having done it.


	7. The Fairest Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time... (A PZA fairytale retelling.)

Once upon a time there were two great warriors named Patroclus and Achilles. Achilles was fair as the sun, with hair like gold and eyes as blue as the noonday sky. He was known, also, to be the greatest warrior in all the land, who it was said could never be defeated in battle. Patroclus too was comely, with skin like bronze and hair dark as night, and his smile would make the knees of maidens and matrons alike go weak. He was second only to Achilles in battle, and fought always at his side.

Many indeed were the maidens, and no few the matrons who sought the love of either, but they loved each other first and greatest, and could not be separated.

Yet Achilles was proud and hot-blooded, and found trouble large and small on many an occasion.

Countless are the tales that could be told of these two, of their battles and of their love, but it happened that in the course of battle, Achilles angered the King Underhill, and thus one night as he passed alone at a crossroads, the king came out from beneath his hill and took Achilles down with him to the fairy realm.

Achilles was heartbroken, bereft of his Patroclus, and would do naught but weep and mourn and seek always to escape. Tiring of this, the king bespelled him to forget his love. And so he ceased his mourning and came to serve in the king’s court.

He was still sad, often, and he knew not why, but he was a man of honor, and served the one he now called lord well.

Now it happened that the king had a son named Zagreus, fair and fey. And if Achilles was the fairest of men, Zagreus was the most beautiful of the fair folk. His hair was as jet, set with the flame of his power, and his eyes were one of ruby and one of jade, bright and merry. He smiled often and laughed often, and all who knew him loved him.

Zagreus, then, looked upon Achilles, and saw his beauty, and saw also his skill, and his honor, and desired all these things. So he took Achilles as his lover, as is the way of the fair folk, though he had other lovers aplenty. Achilles soon loved Zagreus also, and though he still was often sad without reason, he smiled more, and was nearly content with his lot.

Patroclus, though, was not only a great warrior and pleasing to the eye, he was clever and wise as well. He knew that on a certain night the fairy court would have a grand procession, and if one could wait by a crossroads, where the mortal and fairy realms met, one could see this procession pass by.

So on that night he hid himself beside the road and waited.

It was as he had known, and soon there was music so sweet it might break a mortal’s heart, and countless of the fair folk, beautiful beyond mortal dreams, dancing and laughing and speaking together as they proceeded along the road. But Patroclus had eyes and ears for none of it, he watched only for his love, his Achilles.

Yet he was struck, when he saw the one who followed behind the king himself, the prince Zagreus, the fairest of the fair, and for one heart’s beat forgot his purpose and his quest.

Still, in the next heart’s beat his eyes fell on he who walked at the prince’s side, and Patroclus remembered himself, for it was his Achilles. He leapt then, from his hiding place, and put his arms around his love, declaring, “Achilles, my love, it is I, Patroclus. I will hold you, and not let you go, for you are mine, and not the king’s.”

Then Achilles tried to free himself, saying, “I know you not, stranger, leave me be!” And in that moment he changed in Patroclus’ grasp to a great hound with many heads, that barked and snarled and made as if to bite Patroclus.

Yet Patroclus held on tight still, and declared again that Achilles was his.

The hound then became a gorgon, all of snakes and hissing, who looked into Patroclus’ eyes, threatening to turn him to stone.

Still he held tight, and said a second time that Achilles was his true love, and did not belong in the fairy realm.

The gorgon then became a snake of bones, that curled around Patroclus and began to crush him. 

Yet though his ribs creaked with it, he spent his precious breath to declare a third time that he loved Achilles, and would not be parted from him, and he held the serpent tighter still.

At last Achilles was himself again, and his eyes were clear, his mind freed from the king’s spell. He flung his arms around Patroclus, weeping with joy, and kissed him lovingly.

The King Underhill, though, was angered, and lifted his spear to slay the lovers, unwilling to let go what he considered his. Yet Before he could strike, Prince Zagreus flung himself between his father and the two, crying that if the king would slay them, he must slay his son as well.

The king called Zagreus a foolish child, but stayed his hand, and turned away to resume his procession. The prince, however, did not, but stayed, and watched over the pair until the last and least sprite had vanished back into the night.

At last he turned to go, yet Achilles reached out his hand and said, “Patroclus is my true love, prince, yet I have loved you truly as well. Stay, and come to know him also, if you would.”

“I cannot come between lovers such as you,” said Zagreus, and he found that he regretted each time he had seen Achilles weep.

Yet Patroclus, being as he was, a wise man as well as a great warrior, said, “The heart is not a thing bound only to two,” and drew the prince between them, and kissed his cheek.

So it was that, for many years to come, one might find two men, formerly the greatest warriors in the land, now living quietly and peacefully together. And on certain nights, when the veil between worlds is thin, Prince Zagreus walks from the crossroads to their cottage, built near it for just this cause, and lies between the lovers, loving each and being loved by each in turn.


	8. Winner Takes All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanatos is an eldrtich abomination. Zagreus thinks this is normal, Than's just his childhood friend. Doesn't everybody have a Chthonic childhood friend/crush who's all shadows and wings and eyes?

A thread of darkness crept down the hall, snaking its way along in the corner where wall met floor, where the shadows were deepest and might best hide it. The narrow, stretched out shape was speckled here and there with glimmers of golden light, and swirled around the edges with hints of colors not seen in the mortal world. But it wasn’t in the mortal world, it was in the House of Hades, which was its home.

It skirted the base of a gem-studded pillar, and considered climbing up, it might hide even better by the ceiling. But the torches lighting the place lay between, so it would be terribly exposed while getting there. Its pursuer could be along any moment.

So it continued its stealthy advance until it reached the end of the hall. A tendril of it edged around the corner, peering into the more brightly-lit room beyond. It caught a glimpse—if a thing without eyes could be said to glimpse—of red and black and pale hurtling in at high speed and then—

“Ha! Got you!” Zagreus’ pounce was so forceful, so very _physical_ , that it shocked the dark shadow into a tangible form, all wings and eyes and vague grayish tendrils of being. It flailed and fluttered and yelped with a voice like claws on metal, high-pitched and unearthly.

Zagreus giggled. “Your feathers tickle! Stoppit! Surrender, I’ve won!”

“It tickles, hmm?” said the eldritch thing. “Here, I’ll show you tickles!” Then it wasn’t so much an it as a he, a tall, slender boy whose long legs were all tangled up with the stockier Zagreus, and with fingers that immediately sought out armpits and applied merciless tickles.

“Ack! No! Help!”

“Do you yield?” Thanatos grinned down at his friend, who he now had pinned, giggling and squirming, under him.

“Never!”

“Then I’ll show no mercy!” Thanatos allowed a single pair of wings to reform, brushing the feathers of them everywhere he could reach, while still continuing the assault of his fingers beneath Zagreus’ arms.

“Yeep! No fair! You’re cheating! Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

“There’s no cheating in war, only victory!”

“Okay, okay, I yield!”

“Hah!” Thanatos climbed off of Zagreus, then held out a hand and pulled the shorter boy upright. “So do I get a forfeit, since you yielded?”

Zagreus cocked his head to one side, considering. “I dunno what I’d give you, though? What do mortals give, when they lose?”

“Uhm. I’m not sure.” Thanatos frowned, and pulled his wings back into himself as he did.

“You’re the one who gets to go up there. You don’t know?”

“It’s not ‘getting to’ it’s work.” He stuck his tongue out at Zagreus, who made a face back. “Anyway, I don’t talk to them. Souls don’t speak.”

“Huh? But, I mean, some of the shades never shut up.”

Thanatos giggled. “Yeah, I know, but those are shades. Souls only become shades after they get down here. Up there they’re just…things. Like me being darkness, only even less? They’re just little…bits of light. That’s why it’s easy to make them into butterflies and carry them here.”

“Oh. But I still don’t know what I’d give you. Uhm.” His dark brows drew together in concentration, and his red eye seemed to glow a little brighter as he tried hard to think.

“Let’s ask Hypnos, he sees their dreams, so he might know, right?” said Thanatos.

“Okay!”

The pair pelted off towards the bedroom that Thanatos and his twin brother shared. Thanatos kept his humanish shape, since running was easier with legs, and it was nice to run with Zagreus. He maybe could have flown, but he was still sometimes clumsy with his wings. There could be a lot of them, but even just a pair was hard to coordinate.

Inside the room it was quite obvious two very different people shared it, for one side was meticulous, the bed made up, the scrolls neatly stacked on the desk, everything tidily in place. The other side wasn’t quite _messy_ , not like Zagreus’ disaster of a room, but it was haphazard. Things were mostly put away, but any old which way, and the bed was so tangled it was more like a nest.

In that nest was a cloud-white pile of fluff and feathers, dashed and dotted with pale gray-blue, all curled into a nearly spherical ball. It was very like Thanatos, but light to his dark, soft to his sharp. The feathers were soft-edged, like owl feathers, to Thanatos’ hard, smooth raven’s plumage.

“Hypnos! Wake up!” called Thanatos, and the ball started, exploding out into a dozen or so wings and opening a scatter of eyes. 

“Huwhah?!”

Zagreus giggled, but Thanatos poked his twin with a finger on one of the non-winged bits. “We have a question about mortals. You see all their dreams, so I bet you know!”

Hypnos stretched his wings out wide, then folded them all in, and they kept folding further and further in until there was just one tiny one, tucked into the white hair of a boy with blue-gray skin and golden eyes just the same color as his twin’s. He yawned and stretched, blinking sleepily at the pair in front of him. “They dream things that aren’t real, a lot? But I guess maybe I’d know. What is it?” 

“When mortals have wars or fights or contests, there’s a forfeit the loser gives up to the winner, right?” said Thanatos.

“Oh, yeah, that happens, sure.”

“What kinds of things do they give?”

“I think lots of things? They agree beforehand, maybe? But a lot of them dream about getting kisses and things, if they win.”

Thanatos blinked at his twin, feeling his cheeks suddenly hot, for some weird reason. “Oh. Uhm. Really?”

“Yup.” Hypos giggled. “Weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… Weird.” Thanatos found his heart going fast, and almost wanted to go back to his Chthonic form, just so he wouldn’t have a heart to be so…whatever it was being. He looked over at Zagreus, and found his friend was flushed all pink, which figured, since he had red inside him instead of gold. He must be feeling hot too.

“Thanks, Hypnos,” said Zagreus, and he grabbed Thanatos’ hand and dragged him out of the room. In the hall outside he let go, and turned to look at Thanatos. “Uhm. So. Er. A kiss seems kinda…weird.” Zagreus scuffed a foot on the floor, leaving a trail of flames behind.

“Yeah.” On the one hand, Thanatos agreed. On the other hand, he was very, very curious what a kiss might be like. On the third hand—though he wasn’t going to grow a third hand right now just to count that—he didn’t know how to give or get a kiss, exactly. He’d only heard about them, he’d barely even seen one, except getting kisses on the cheek from his mother.

“Is that, I mean, do you want a kiss as your forfeit?” asked Zagreus, looking like he was thinking a lot of the same things that Thanatos was.

Thanatos gnawed on his lip for a moment, then decided. “Yeah. I do.”

Zagreus’ mismatched eyes went very wide, and his face turned even redder. Thanatos felt hot enough that he was pretty sure his whole face was all gold-tinted. “You really do? You’re sure?”

Not sure at all, but unwilling to back down now that he’d said it, Thanatos nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Zagreus swallowed hard. “Uhm. Okay.” He stepped closer to Thanatos. “You’re not going to be mad if I don’t do it right?”

Thanatos mutely shook his head.

“Okay.” Zagreus got closer, and went up on his tip-toes to be tall enough. Thanatos tilted his head down. Zagreus put his hand on Thanatos’ shoulder. It was shaking, just a little. Thanatos thought maybe he was shaking too. He didn’t know why this suddenly seemed so important, but it did.

Zagreus’ lips met his, and they were hot and weird and also really good. Then Zagreus stepped back. Thanatos could see that Zagreus was pink all the down onto his chest now. He was pretty sure he looked about the same.

“Was that, uhm, did I do it right?”

Thanatos nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

They both stared at each other for a long moment, vaguely aware of an entire new world of wonderfully terrifying things that was looming somewhere ahead of them.

Then Zagreus said, “Bet I win next time!”

“Hah, no way!”

“If you promise to play fair. No shape-changing, okay? I can’t do that.”

“Not my fault you’re not Chthonic!” Thanatos grinned. “But okay. Bet I still win.”

“You’re on! Winner gets a kiss?”

Thanatos giggled. “That’ll be me! Catch me if you can!”

And then they were off, footsteps and laughter echoing in the halls of the House of Hades as the two unlikely friends played together.


	9. Reunion Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children of Nyx aren't all close, but Thanatos and Hypos are twins, and were once as close as possible. Somehow they grew apart, but when Zagreus gets them talking again, they decide to revisit the best of their childhood together.
> 
> Or, eldritch abomination cuddles!
> 
> Update: I've drawn [Eldritch Thanatos](https://twitter.com/bladespark/status/1369092000318779394). Or one way he can be, anyway.

The room was dusty. That was the first thing Thanatos noticed when he stepped inside. Well, it wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t been here in a literal age. He’d thought, perhaps, that Hypnos might have continued using it, after he’d moved out, but it seemed not.

“Wow, this is really a mess, isn’t it, Thanatos?”

“Yes.” His eyes scanned over the scattered old toys, nearly unidentifiable amid their blanket of dust, the bookcase, the books themselves half moldered away, and the nest at the center, what had been a tangled mound of blankets and cushions now a heap of cobwebs and rot.

“Somehow… Somehow I thought it would be the same,” said Hypnos, his voice suddenly small, no longer cheerful.

“Yes,” repeated Thanatos with a sigh. “I suppose we can’t just go back.”

“We…could clean it? Or ask Dusa?”

Thanatos shook his head. “Coming here was a bad idea, Hypnos. We can’t just recreate our childhood.”

Hypnos looked away from his brother. “Does that mean you don’t want to…you know?”

Tentatively Thanatos reached out, took Hypnos’ hand. Their fingers were both the same length, but Thanatos’ were broader, marked with calluses, while Hypnos’ were narrow and soft, the only mark a tiny callus and a spattering of ink stains from holding his quill. The touch of that hand was so familiar, even after all this time. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. I miss how close we used to be. But come, it seems we can’t re-create the old, so let us build anew.”

“Okay,” said Hypnos, trustingly.

Thanatos pulled him in close, sighing softly at the feel of Hypnos’ cool body against his, and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Then, with a flash of green light, the brothers were gone, leaving empty dust and decay behind them.

****

They appeared in a more conventional bedroom, with an ordinary bed, not a nest, and furnished for an adult rather than a child. It was Thanatos’ own room, tucked away in the House of Hades among the various other servants’ rooms, though he was not strictly a servant.

Hypnos was still held close in his arms, and didn’t move to pull away, but rested his head against Thanatos’ shoulder. He was almost as tall, but much more slender. Thanatos stroked his hand down Hypnos’ back, over his fleecy cloak. The motion was hesitant at first. It had been so very long since they’d been close. Yet it gained confidence rapidly.

Hypnos sighed against his shoulder and rested his hands against Thanatos’ broad chest, the one on the side not covered by his chiton stroking the skin there slowly. Thanatos turned his head and kissed the soft, curly cloud of Hypnos’ hair. “You were right. It’s…good to draw close again,” he murmured.

“Yeah.” Hypnos’ voice was a dreamy sigh.

They stood together for a long time. Then Thanatos let go, and nudged Hypnos back. “Shall we?”

Hypnos started, obviously having been half asleep already, and Thanatos chuckled warmly.

“Oh, uhm…” Hypnos looked around the room, eyes fixing on the bed. “Can I? Uhm?”

Having some idea what Hypnos was likely to do—he’d always been much more of a nester, and much happier to change forms—Thanatos nodded. “Feel free.”

Hypnos nearly dove for the bed with a gleeful giggle and soon had it completely pulled apart, the feather mattress bunched up, all the blankets twisted and tangled. He even dug the extra blankets out of the chest at the foot without needing to ask if there were any, as if he had some magic sense for blankets. Thanatos only watched, an indulgent smile on his face, as Hypnos made the big bed into as close a replica as he could to the sort of nest of soft things they’d slept in together as children.

Once the nest was done, Hypnos floated up into it. He curled up there with a profound sigh, and a moment later he’d let go of his shape and slipped back into his more natural form, which filled the hollow at the middle of the bed halfway up with white feathers and bits of blue-gray tentacles. Three or four golden eyes of varying sizes blinked drowsily at Thanatos and a voice that spoke in Hypnos’ cadence but with an eerie, metallic quality, said, “Come join me, please, brother?”

Thanatos drew in a deep breath, trying not to tense. As long as it had been since he’d nested with his twin like this, it had been nearly that long since he’d let himself take anything other than the humanish form he’d chosen.

But that was the point of all this, wasn’t it? To relax together. To revisit the past. To renew the bonds and be close, the way they’d been once.

So Thanatos floated up and settled into the nest beside Hypnos. He closed his eyes and concentrated. It took embarrassingly long to remember how to do it, how to let his form relax, but finally he did, and it felt like sliding into a hot bath, like lying back in the softest bed, like everything and anything peaceful and natural and soothing, to let go his shape.

He unfurled his wings, glossy, raven-black beside his brother’s soft and fluffy white, reveling in the stretch of them. They’d been folded up within him for so long!

Thanatos stretched out the rest of himself, too, letting tendrils of being, gray and sometimes clawed or scaled, stretch and burrow amid the blankets, curl around the folded-up form of his brother, and unroll into the air.

Eventually he folded most of himself in again, but kept the pieces of him that were wrapped around Hypnos there, and stretched one wing out over him too. Hypnos burrowed into that embrace, and tentatively slid some of his own tendrils of self to slide over Thanatos, winding over skin and feathers warmly, twining them together in a many-armed embrace.

“Mmm. It is good,” murmured Thanatos, his voice a thing of steel and echoes in this form. “It is good to be here, like this, with you.”


	10. Wing and Scale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanatos gets teased for being an abomination. Achilles, half nereid that he is, knows a little bit about what that's like.

Achilles had been a parent. Admittedly he hadn’t, perhaps, been _much_ of a parent, but he certainly knew the sound of a sobbing child when he heard one, even though this one sounded more than a little odd. He’d just gotten off duty, and had been on his way to his chambers, when the sound drew his attention. He hadn’t been much of a parent, but he was enough of one—or perhaps merely enough of a decent person, somewhere under all the war and glory and despair that had followed—to be unable to walk past the sound of a child in distress and not investigate.

He knew the children of the House, or thought he did. His Master’s son, Zagreus. Lady Nyx’s two strange boys, Thanatos and Hypnos. The young fury, seeming oldest of the three, Megaera, though he’d been told in fact the twins were by far the elder. Gods, especially Chthonic gods, did things differently than mortals. Achilles had been here for… Well, without the turning of the seasons it was hard to measure, but many years, certainly, and the only one of the children who’d grown was Zagreus, who hadn’t even been born when he’d arrived, and now seemed about the same age as the twins, perhaps six or seven years old, though he thought it had been longer than that.

The…child? Probably? That Achilles found weeping wedged into a storeroom, after following the sound of distress, was none of those. It was a little bundle of black feathers and mis-matched grayish limbs and golden eyes.

On second thought, Achilles thought it might be Thanatos. Did god-children change shape? It was very much in his colors.

The little thing was wedged into a tiny space, between two barrels, only just visible. Achilles sat down on the other side of the barrels. “Hello there,” he said.

There was a squeak and an attempt to muffle the sobs.

“It sounds like you’re having a bad day.”

That got only silence and something that wasn’t actually sniffles but might be somehow equivalent, a sad little metallic hiccuping sound.

“I can remember having some pretty bad days in the past. Do you want to talk about yours?”

“Alecto was making fun of me,” said a little voice, strange and inhuman, but definitely childish. “I lost my shape. Mother Nyx says keeping human shape is important. And I couldn’t. And Alecto said I was an ‘bomination. And then I started crying and I can’t change when I cry and she made fun of me for that and Meg did too ‘cause she always tries to impress Alecto except I thought she was my friend!”

Ah, so it _was_ Thanatos.

“That sounds very upsetting,” said Achilles, not able to think of anything else to say. “Maybe you could come out here, though? You can’t stay back in there forever.”

“But Mother Nyx said mortals will be afraid of me like this. I can’t come out, I’d make you afraid.”

Achilles chuckled. “Some would be, but not all of them. I’m not a mortal, though.”

“You’re not? Huh? But you’re a shade. Shades are mortals.”

“I’m a demi-god, young Master Thanatos. My mother was a nereid. Do you know what nereids are?”

“They’re water nymphs.”

“Exactly. I used to scare other children sometimes, when I was little. Adults sometimes too, even after I was grown.”

Several additional eyes peeped out from under the feathers, quite an assortment of them now looking at Achilles. “But why would you scare anybody, you look just like a mortal?”

“I do now, but when I get in water, I change just a little.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. Not much, but sometimes it only takes a little to scare mortals.”

“Oh. Change into what?” Thanatos no longer sounded tearful, and the little metallic hiccups had stopped.

“Would you like to see? I have to be in water, but we could go to the baths. Maybe get you washed up a bit, see if you can change back after?”

“Okay.” Thanatos emerged from his hiding place, but he didn’t step out or even crawl out, he oozed out. It was like watching a very small mudslide, if the mud were gray and also studded with countless black-feathered wings and golden eyes. It was admittedly uncanny, but in truth, no stranger than some things one could find in the ocean. Achilles had spent countless hours there with his mother. He, half-blooded as he was, could only explore the shallows, he couldn’t breathe the water, so he had to surface, but there were all sorts of strange things in the water, though his mother had often said the true wonders roamed the great deeps.

The near-liquid that was Thanatos bunched up into a ball right next to Achilles, and at least a dozen eyes were now regarding him, only some of them blinking. “I’ll carry you there then, how’s that? Any shade that might be afraid will know that the house guard has things all taken care of, right?”

Thanatos gave a little sort of bob, squashing flatter and then straightening up, that might be a nod. So Achilles carefully slid a hand under him.

The ball of appendages, feathers and eyes proved to be very light, certainly no more than the weight of a child, though it looked larger. But then feathered things had to be light, didn’t they, to fly? Achilles cradled Thanatos to his chest as best he could and rose. He soon found various little tentacles and claws latched onto his himation, but the eyes were all peering around curiously, as if enjoying seeing everything from a dozen points of view as Achilles walked down the servant’s hall to the baths.

They didn’t pass anyone, the shades mostly didn’t come back here, only House servants or guests, the latter of which were passingly rare.

Achilles swung open the big double doors to the baths, and smiled to find no one else there. That would make things easier. He set Thanatos gently down on the tiled floor beside the nearest pool, and shed his clothing with swift efficiency. The water was warm and welcoming, and Achilles didn’t resist the changes that came with it. “There we are, lad.” Achilles held up one hand, now webbed and coated with little golden scales rather than skin. His ears were more pointed than they’d been, his eyes green rather than blue, his teeth all a little sharper. His feet were webbed too, the toes a little longer, and all of him was covered in fine scales, though that could be hard to tell without the right lighting. That was the sum total of what had terrified fellow children and sometimes grown men, in his mortal life.

“Huh. That’s only a tiny little difference.”

“Indeed. Like I said, some mortals are afraid of nearly anything different. Do you want to come in and have a wash?”

“Ech, I hate getting my feathers wet.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Hmm.” There was an odd little “ _pop!_ ” and suddenly instead of a shapeless mass of feathers, there was a little boy standing there. Still obviously not quite human, with his gray skin and silver hair and bright gold eyes, but not much further off from it than Achilles himself, at least to look at. He wasn’t wearing anything, and he climbed into the pool without hesitation.

“Can you swim better, because you have hands like that?” Thanatos asked, peering at Achilles curiously.

“A little bit, yes.”

“Huh.” Thanatos stared at his own hands, and they were suddenly webbed. He giggled. “Oh! Yay, I did it!”

“Very nice, lad. Have a swim with me, then.”

The pair splashed about for some time, until Thanatos declared himself done. Achilles climbed out and dried himself off, the changes fading as the water left his skin. Thanatos became dry and clothed in an instant with another little pop, which Achilles found himself thinking was a very handy trick.

“There you go, young Master Thanatos. Thank you for joining me.”

“Thank you, Achilles, sir,” he said, and then with one more pop, this one accompanied by a flash of green light, he was gone, leaving a smiling Achilles behind.

He’d never been much of a parent in life, and there was always an ache of regret that came with that thought, but today’s encounter had been a balm to it. Achilles didn’t know how much he’d helped, Thanatos was in truth far, far older than he. But he knew what it was like to be different from those around you, and he was glad of the chance to have soothed the strange child out of his tears all the same.


	11. Blood Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus feels something strange, someone calling his name. When he answers the summons, he finds himself unexpectedly on the surface, and unexpectedly facing his first mortal worshiper.
> 
> Inspired almost entirely by ThatMasterOnline's really awesome fic, God of Blood. (With less Ares, though. Alas. Maybe another time!)

Zagreus was in Elysium when he felt it. Fortunately he had just finished clearing the chamber he was in, or the distraction might have been a problem.

It felt like somebody calling his name. In fact he thought maybe it _was_ somebody calling his name. But it also felt like power. Like the way getting a boon felt. Like something added to his self, but unlike a boon, what was being added didn’t belong to some other god, it was his, like he’d just grown a little taller, or gotten a little stronger.

The power was simply there, but the sense of his name _pulled_ at him. Feeling confused but also curious, Zagreus gave in to the pull.

To his surprise Elysium vanished around him in a flare of red light and he appeared somewhere that had to be on the surface. It was night, the moon bright in the impossibly broad, distant arch of the sky above, but for once Zagreus wasn’t marveling about the strangeness of the surface, he was too busy staring at what lay directly in front of him.

There was a crude altar of piled stones, perhaps knee-high, standing in a little grove of trees. A small oil lamp burned on it, and beside that was a dagger, the tip bloodied, and a copper bowl. Behind the altar knelt a mortal, whose arm was held out, a few final drops of blood falling from it to join what filled the bowl.

The scent of blood struck Zagreus instantly. He knew that scent entirely from his own, the only true blood in all the underworld, but this was far stronger, somehow. The blood of a mortal, drawing his attention as he never could have expected.

The mortal, a young man with dark, curly hair and olive skin, stared up at Zagreus, his eyes wide in shock. “L-lord Zagreus,” he stammered.

Suddenly Zagreus understood. This was an offering to him. The first ever blood sacrifice in his name. Even as he realized that, he realized too that he _knew_ this mortal, somehow. Something in the nature of the offering itself carried the knowledge effortlessly to Zagreus. The young man’s name was Anaeus, and he was praying to gain the courage to speak to the boy he desperately loved.

Zagreus felt a surge of something like love in himself for Anaeus. A living mortal, a fragile creature, so lacking in power, had been willing to give a part of his very self to Zagreus, and for such a beautiful cause, too. Zagreus understood exactly how Anaeus felt, given how hard he’d found it to speak to Thanatos of his own feelings.

“Anaeus,” he said gently, as the mortal stared up at him. “I’ve heard your prayer, and I accept your offering.”

Zagreus reached down and picked up the bowl, putting it to his lips. He’d already downed most of it when it occurred to him that this was a very strange thing to do. But he couldn’t help himself. The scent of it was enough to drive him utterly mad, and the taste… Gods above, the taste of it was better than the finest ambrosia. It flushed through him, filling an emptiness within him, satisfying a hunger that he hadn’t even known he’d felt, for it had been there his whole life.

He was no longer a god of nothing, with no worshipers, trapped in a realm where he didn’t belong. He was Zagreus, god of blood, his first worshiper kneeling before him, and as the blood filled him, all the weakness and exhaustion he’d ever felt when standing on the surface fled.

Zagreus set the bowl back on the altar, then looked at Anaeus. The mortal still was staring, seeming startled, perhaps even afraid, but no more so than he had before; apparently he hadn’t found Zagreus drinking his blood appalling. On impulse, Zagreus reached down and took up the dagger, He pricked his palm with it, just enough to draw a single drop. Replacing the dagger, Zagreus then dipped his finger in the drop and reached out, touching the trembling mortal where his chiton laid the spot over his heart bare.

“I bless you with courage, and with the love you hope for, or with solace if the fates deny it, with whatever power I may have,” he said.

“Th-thank you, Lord Zagreus,” breathed the young man. “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for the offering,” said Zagreus, smiling. “I know what it is to love and fear.” He nodded at his new worshiper. Then again, somehow, he knew exactly how to return to where he’d been, vanishing from the mortal world in a flash of red, appearing in Elysium.

“Ha! So that’s how Than does that!” Zagreus laughed in utter delight. He couldn’t wait until he could tell everyone. Than and Meg would be so happy for him. So would Persephone. Hell, he’d probably even get one of those nearly-touching bits of uncomfortable, grudging admiration from his father.

Zagreus wasn’t ready to accept those moments gracefully, not yet, but he had to admit he liked them.

But in this moment how his father reacted didn’t even matter. He was a god! An actual god with an actual domain, actual power, an actual worshiper.

“Thank you, Anaeus,” he said, to the empty air, then pulled out Stygius and grinned. Time to fight, and probably shed a little more of his own blood. Maybe he’d even tell Theseus when he reached the arena. No doubt he’d get a “bloodsucking fiend” from the champion in return, but Theseus would also no doubt be enraged at the idea that somebody would _worship_ Zagreus.

Gods, the future suddenly seemed amazing. All this joy was from just one worshiper. Would he get more? What would that be like? He’d thought he’d resigned himself to only ever being the security guard of Hades, making the best of being trapped, but he wasn’t anymore, was he? He was Zagreus, the god of blood, and the whole world now stood open before him.


	12. The Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theseus lost a bet, and lost a fight, to Achilles. He's now serving not only the hero, but the fiend Zagreus, inexplicably loved by the Aristos Achaeon, the best of the Greeks.
> 
> Surely this means nothing.
> 
> Surely Theseus cannot be jealous of a demon and a mere shade who almost never fights.
> 
> Inspired by a [lovely little image](https://twitter.com/EGGCHEFFF/status/1363723831030870018?s=20) from twitter, and by another fic that is very good, but just didn't do it for me.

Theseus burned with shame as he clenched down helplessly on Achilles’ cock.

He knew how he’s gotten here. Or course he did. He’d boasted, as he always had, that he’d best any challenger. It had always been true before, with the occasional exception of Zagreus; and though he loathed losing to the fiend, Zagreus was a god, if a hell-born one, so there wasn’t too much shame in that.

Today, though, he’d lost to Achilles, and lost the bet he’d made, too.

So now he sat, impaled in the legendary warrior’s cock, a collar tight around his throat, the leash in Achilles’ hand, and moved not a bit, for if he tried, he’d only be yanked back and scolded by the Aristos Achaion, the man who was, if Theseus was being honest, far his superior in so many ways.

“Mmm.” The soft sigh of pleasure came not from Achilles, but from Zagreus, pressed up against Achilles’ side, kissing the hero with a gentle passion that woke uncomfortable feelings in Theseus’ gut. When had anyone been so tender with him? Almost never. Asterius, in their better moments, but though he loved his brother in arms passionately, Asterius seemed to regard Theseus with a mostly platonic affection, his more erotic engagements a favor, not a mutual thing.

Gods, peering back at the pair of them, locked together as they were, almost hurt.

After a moment, though, Achilles pulled from the kiss and yanked on the leash in his hand. “Move, Champion,” he said, his tone one of certain command. It shivered down Theseus’ spine, and he gasped and began lifting up and rocking back down as best he could.

“Better,” said Achilles, his voice still cool, unemotional.

Theseus wanted to snarl at him.

He didn’t dare.

Gods above, how was Achilles so much better than him? They were both demigods, so Achilles shouldn’t have any real advantage. Yet shame and shameful desire for the one who'd so easily bested him burned in Theseus as he lifted up and thrust down onto the hero’s cock.

“You’re so good to me,” murmured Achilles. Theseus wanted to snarl, knowing that this was directed at that hellspawn, that demon, that horrible field Zagreus, who violated all norms, all propriety to try to escape hell. How dare he! And how dare Achilles speak to him like that! Theseus whined in the back of his throat, frustrated beyond measure, but all that got him was a harder yank on the leash, pulling him down again. He moaned and ground down on Achilles, aware all the time that the hero was petting and embracing Zagreus.

“Achilles,” whined Theseus, then put his hand in his mouth, flushing brightly. Fuck, why had he said that?

Achilles laughed softly, hands gripping Theseus’ hips, and pulling him down hard, which made Theseus gasp. Then, cruelly, he held Theseus there, filled wonderfully, but unable to move. He whined wordlessly, and Achilles bit the back of his neck. “Be good, Champion. You are mine tonight. Be good or you will suffer for it.”

“I… Y-yes…” Part of Theseus wanted to babble that he would be good, he was Achilles’, he would do anything for the hero’s regard, please! He had just enough pride to keep those words behind his teeth.

“What do you think, lad?” said Achilles gently, softly, and while one of his hands kept a bruising grip on Theseus’ hip, the other lifted to stroke Zagreus’ hair softly.

“He does seem to be trying.” Zagreus giggled. “But I’m jealous, sir. Your cock is so good, and he has it just now. What should I do with myself?”

Achilles chuckled. “I can think of something, lad.” A moment later Zagreus gasped, and when Theseus threw a glance behind him, at where Zagreus was nestled against Achilles’ side, he saw Achilles’ hand curled around the fiend’s cock. Gods, he ached for that touch. It really wasn’t fair. His own cock bobbed as he moved, rock hard and leaking pre.

Soft, wet sounds drew his attention again, and he whined, seeing the fiend and the hero locked together in a sweetly passionate kiss. The fullness that he thrust down on with each stroke was so good, but the leash was pulling him to it, his defeat humiliating, and even worse, seeing the loving passion between these two made him stupidly jealous. He reached down, his hands gripping Achilles’ thighs, and moaned when he wasn’t told not to. Even that small bit of contact, that tiny extra flush of pleasure, was so good.

“Ah… P-please,” he whimpered, moving faster, trying to pretend he was only begging for release.

He heard Zagreus groan, looked over and saw how Achilles stroked the hellspawn’s cock. The hero had a free hand, he could have touched Theseus too if he wished. “Please,” gasped Theseus again, clenching hard, desperation, envy, and shame chasing through him.

“No,” growled Achilles. “You have lost, Champion. You are serving me. Now be silent.” His hand left Theseus’ hip to yank on the collar, pulling him back. Theseus arched, head falling to Achilles’ shoulder, a startled cry escaping him. He lay there, trembling, not knowing what to do, for a long moment.

A soft giggle and a touch drawing up his shaft brought him to startled focus, and he looked down to see the pale-fingered hand of the fiend wrapped around him. “Will you accept pleasure from a hellspawn, Champion?” said Zagreus, as Achilles laughed in Theseus’ ear.

Theseus wanted to say no, to refuse, but he was on fire with need, and all he could do was clench his teeth, panting, giving no reply.

“Mmm. You’re wasting your skills on him, lad,” murmured Achilles. “I’d sooner have you around me, truth be told. You take me so beautifully. He’s tight enough, but he can’t hold a candle to you, lad.”

Zagreus giggled again, his fingers teasing lightly against Thesues’ shaft. “You’re too kind, sir. I do try, though. But I want him to see to your pleasure. You’re being so good to me. Ah…” Zagreus drew in a breath, Achilles’ hand on him tightening. “Is he being good to you?”

“It’s adequate, I suppose.”

“I can do better than adequate,” said Theseus, finally finding words again. He clenched hard on Achilles’ cock, lifting himself higher and dropping down almost the full length of it.

“Ah!” Achilles let out a breathless cry, then laughed. “Well, it seems you can be inspired to skill, king.”

“Let him please you, sir,” said Zagreus. “You can take care of me after. Or he can. Or I can myself!”

“Very well, lad.” Theseus felt two hands on him suddenly, gripping his hips. One still held the leash fastened to the collar he wore, but it was slack, and Achilles wasn’t pulling on that, he was pulling Theseus down onto his cock as Achilles thrust up roughly.

Oh _gods_. Certainly Asterius was larger, but when had the minotaur ever made him burn with humiliation like this? When had he been anything but gentle? Never. Sweet Asterius never could. So, with his mind on fire, Theseus whimpered and moaned and thrust down repeatedly, seeking a shameful pleasure. He got it soon enough, Achilles letting out a low grunt, spurts of hot seed shooting up into Theseus. He whined again, trembling, then whimpered when he felt a hand wrap around his cock. The fiend, damned hellspawn that he was, was giving Theseus relief. He shouldn't want it, but he did; horribly, shamefully, he did. He cried out with it, coming only moments later, all over the demon’s hand and all over himself.

“Tch, what a mess,” said Zagreus, laughing. Theseus suddenly found the hellspawn’s hand, covered in the Champion’s own seed, in front of his face. He flinched back, but Achilles tugged on the collar and said, “Clean the mess you’ve made,” in a stern voice. So with shame twisting together with a horrible thrill of want, Theseus did, licking his own spend from Zagreus’ hand.

“Good boy,” murmured Achilles, which went through Theseus in a shudder of bliss. 

“Ah…”

Suddenly the hero’s lips were on his neck, nipping and kissing. “Very good boy. You’ve obeyed so well.”

“Noisily, but well,” said Zagreus, with a laugh.

Theseus squirmed, not sure what to think. Achilles praising him was so good! But he was a king and a champion, why should he need anyone’s praise? He couldn’t help himself, though, he whined with it, leaning back against Achilles.

“Now, my defeated champion, I’m afraid I’m done with you,” said the hero, his strong hands picking Theseus up, pulling him off of Achilles’ cock. Theseus bit his lip, managing somehow to not whine at no longer being filled. At least he’d gotten his pleasure, and given some to Achilles.

A moment later, though, he could hear Achilles and Zagreus locked together, kissing heatedly, with murmurs of warn, sweet pleasure, Achilles spilling out praise on the horrible little god.

Theseus curled into a ball, and wished Asterius was here to comfort him. He was nothing, less than nothing, beside these two, who obviously loved each other. Jealousy burned in him as Zagreus—the demonic menace!—was pleasured freely by Achilles, Aristos Achaion, best of the Greeks, noblest of heroes. All possible gods damn it, why couldn’t Theseus have such admiration?

No, no, Asterius was worthy, certainly he was, yet Theseus found tears pricking his eyes as he curled tightly on the bed and tried to block out the sounds of the blissful lovers pleasing each other beside him.

He was a champion. He was a hero. He had his partner who cared for him.

So why did it all feel so hollow?


End file.
